The First Annual Storybrooke Ball
by Dani-Ellie03
Summary: "All I'm saying is that it's been quiet here the last couple of weeks. It's finally starting to feel normal and this place is finally starting to feel like home. I think throwing a town celebration is a wonderful idea.""Yeah, a celebration is great but does it have to be a *ball*?" Emma asked, her voice verging on a whine.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** The First Annual Storybrooke Ball  
**Summary:** "All I'm saying is that it's been quiet here the last couple of weeks. It's finally starting to feel normal and this place is finally starting to feel like home. I think throwing a town celebration is a wonderful idea.""Yeah, a celebration is great but does it have to be a _ball_?" Emma asked, her voice verging on a whine.  
**Spoilers:** Set post-4x11, "Heroes and Villains."  
**Rating/Warning:** K+. Charming Family angst/fluff, as per usual, with an eventual dash of Captain Swan because yeah.  
**Disclaimer:** _Once Upon a Time_ and its characters were created by Eddie Kitsis and Adam Horowitz and are owned by ABC. I'm just playing in someone else's sandbox.  
**Author's Note: **An anonymous prompt on Tumblr: "Think you can write a What If fic where they're back in the enchanted forest somewhere around season 3 final or season 4 mid-season finale and Emma is having a hard time adjusting to being royalty? (some really needed daddy charming and charming family fluff)?" They were kind enough to let me adapt the prompt a tetch to keep it canon compliant, resulting in what you see below. I'm so sorry it took me forever and a day to get this going for you! Feedback would make my week from hell a thousand times better. Enjoy. :)

* * *

"Have you completely lost your mind?"

Snow White's eyebrows shot to the ceiling. She'd known her daughter would meet the news of her plan for her next mayoral decree with incredulity but the shock on Emma's face was … kind of startling, to be honest. Her baby girl was staring at her as if she'd sprouted a couple of new appendages.

"I just thought it would be nice to organize some kind of celebration," Snow insisted. "It's been two weeks since Belle banished Gold, two weeks since there's been a vill–"

"Shh!" Emma interrupted, shooting up straight in her chair. "Stop with the v-word! Do not finish that sentence and knock on something wooden right now."

Though Emma was not at all superstitious, Snow humored her and gave the top of the kitchen table a cursory rap. "All I'm saying is that it's been quiet here the last couple of weeks. It's finally starting to feel normal and this place is finally starting to feel like home. I think throwing a town celebration is a wonderful idea."

"Yeah, a celebration is great but does it have to be a _ball_?" Emma asked, her voice verging on a whine. "What's wrong with like, a parade or a festival or something?"

Snow hid a smile at the disgust dripping in her baby girl's tone. "You went to a ball in the Enchanted Forest with Hook, remember," she reminded her. Emma's arched eyebrow indicated that her experience in King Midas' castle was not something she was sure to forget any time soon. "All I'm saying is that you saw what balls were like."

"Yeah, they were uncomfortable, fancy things filled with people wearing uncomfortable, fancy clothes ..." She trailed off, lost in the memory of the night that was decades ago for Snow but only weeks ago for Emma. Then she met her mother's eyes with a huff. "And I got taken to Regina's dungeon that night!"

"You also danced with Hook that night," Snow added gently. "I saw the picture in the book, Emma. Even though it was an illustration, the tenderness in your eyes and the smile on your face were clear as day. You were having fun, at least for that moment."

Emma pursed her lips but didn't offer any further argument, causing Snow to bite back a smile. The tides of battle were starting to turn in Snow's favor.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but we don't exactly have a lot of ball provisions here," Emma said dryly. "Like, where the hell are we even going to _put_ everybody?"

And now they were turning back in Emma's. "City Hall's big enough for town meetings," Snow replied, a touch of uncertainty in her voice. "Perhaps we could have it there."

"And what are people going to wear?" Emma continued as if Snow hadn't spoken at all. "Storybrooke isn't exactly overflowing with places to get ball gowns, Mom."

"I didn't envision it having all the trappings of home, Emma," Snow rebutted patiently. It was the truth; she'd known throwing a ball in Storybrooke wouldn't be the same as throwing one in the Enchanted Forest. It couldn't, not completely, but the spirit could still be the same. "I just thought it would be something nice to do … give everyone a little taste of the Enchanted Forest in our new home."

And she could see it, a cooling of the resistant fire in her baby girl's eyes. It was no shock to her, then, when Emma softened and said, "All right, I can appreciate that. But there are a lot of logistical things that we need to work out."

"And that, my darling daughter, is why I'm asking you to help me with this," Snow smiled. "You're a sheriff and you were a bail bondsperson. Plus, you're my amazingly wonderful and logical daughter. Logistics is kind of your area of expertise, is it not?"

Every single word she'd spoken was the gods' honest truth, but Snow couldn't help but bite her lip to hide her smirk when a sheepish flush colored Emma's fair cheeks. "You know what they say about flattery getting you everywhere, don't you?"

Snow just grinned. She most certainly did.

* * *

Between Emma's knack for logistics and Snow's knack for planning, the two of them had come up with quite the lengthy list of considerations for the First Annual Storybrooke Ball. (Their first argument had occurred when Emma had wanted to swap out "Ball" for "Gala." Much to her dismay, even Charming had agreed that "Ball" needed to remain in the title.)

Snow ran her eyes down their handwritten list, somewhat disheartened. Putting together a ball was more daunting than she'd anticipated. How on earth had her parents done this over and over for years on end?

Of course, her parents had also had a castle full of workers to make all the arrangements and take care of all the details. As a young princess, Snow had only watched everyone rush around and get everything ready while she herself brimmed with excitement and anticipation. Balls were parties, and to a child, there was nothing more fun than a party.

Emma frowned down at the list as well, reading it upside down from across the table. "Granny's isn't going to be able to feed the entire town, even on a catering basis. We could split the menu among the different restaurants. That way everyone gets some of the business."

Snow smiled at her brilliant daughter. "See, now, that's what I meant when I said that logistics was your area. I think that's a wonderful idea."

"Tony makes a great chicken marsala."

"Is that a hint?" Snow asked through a chuckle, already making a note on her sheet to ask Tony if he could provide chicken marsala.

Emma just smiled.

Snow made a couple more notes; she could approach the bakery for desserts and she could ask Mo French for some flower arrangements for decorations and centerpieces.

"So," Emma said somewhat uncomfortably. Snow looked up to find her baby girl fidgeting in the chair, hesitance written across her features. "Is this … is this how balls were planned in the Enchanted Forest?"

Snow smiled gently. Emma still wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea of the Enchanted Forest – not that Snow could blame her, seeing as neither of her trips to the place had been walks in the park – but every now and then, she'd ask a question or two about life there. "There was a little more to it than two people sitting at a kitchen table, but basically, yes. My parents would decide they wanted to have a ball and the castle staff would take over from there. Everyone would prepare nonstop for _days_. It was amazing to watch it all come together."

"And King Midas' ball … that was pretty much the standard?"

"Yes," Snow allowed, "though I was always more partial to the children's balls."

Now Emma looked slightly intrigued. "Children's balls?"

"Oh, yes. I guess the equivalent here would be school dances. They were balls thrown for the sole purpose of allowing the children from the neighboring kingdoms to meet and have fun."

Emma wrinkled her nose. "I still don't know how you had fun wearing those stuffy clothes or having to be Miss Prim and Proper all the time."

Snow didn't see the wisdom in pointing out that Emma herself had managed to have fun at a ball despite the stuffy clothes. "I didn't know any different," she said instead, giving a dismissive half-shrug. "I prepared for ages for my first ball. Dance and etiquette lessons, dress fittings, hair styling, the whole nine yards. I loved it. I was at that age where you're still a child but you want to be an adult. All the preparations helped me feel a little bit more like a grown-up."

Soft wistfulness had settled on her baby girl's face. The vast differences between how Emma should have grown up and how she actually did grow up were not lost on Snow, and clearly they were not lost on Emma, either. Her wonderful little girl should have grown up as a princess, loved and cherished by an entire kingdom. Instead she'd grown up alone, unloved and unwanted.

The reality of her little princess's life in this world broke Snow's heart every single second of every single day.

"Becoming a grown-up before you're supposed to is overrated," Emma said softly.

And statements like that took Snow's broken heart and absolutely shattered it. Her poor baby had certainly had to grow up much earlier than she should have. She reached across the table for her daughter's hand and smiled when Emma took it. "I wish so hard that you could have had all of this growing up, Emma."

"Yeah," Emma said, swallowing hard, "I do, too."

Snow squeezed her hand, smiling gently. Then, when she sensed Emma had had enough of the mushiness, she let go and refocused on the task at hand.

For the next little while, they solely discussed preparations. Once neither one of them could think of a single consideration they hadn't covered, Snow set the pen down and smiled. "We've got quite the start."

Emma smiled, too, but hers didn't quite reach her eyes. "Yeah, we do."

Concern immediately flooded Snow. "Are you all right?"

Though Emma nodded, Snow could tell it wasn't exactly the truth.

Well, then. She'd just have to keep an eye on this, wouldn't she?


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** You all remain the best. Thank you for the reviews and follows and favorites! Here's some Mama Snow, because I miss writing these two like this.

* * *

"Emma?" Snow asked, startling Emma from her very important task of staring down at her mug of coffee. "Are you ready?"

Emma groaned inwardly. She was not at all ready and she probably never would be. After all, she'd only agreed to this little errand in a moment of weakness.

When Snow had casually asked as they were getting dinner together the other night if she wanted to go shopping for her dress for the ball together, the little girl who still resided within Emma had instantly taken over. Going dress shopping with her mom was a rite of passage she'd missed out on – in both worlds

She'd never had anyone pick out a pretty dress for her to wear on her birthday or for picture day or for school dances. She'd never gone shopping for a special outfit to wear on the first day of school or for holidays. Hell, she'd gone shopping for the dress she wore on her date with Killian by herself, too used to doing things on her own to even think to ask Snow to go with her.

Emma didn't know what choosing outfits for a princess would have entailed had she grown up in the Enchanted Forest but she imagined that would have been a special time as well. The queen and the young princess would have spent days together discussing hair styles and accessories and attending dress fittings and dance lessons.

The opportunity to reclaim some of those experiences had presented itself, even if it was a decade or so too late. Emma the lonely little girl had said yes before Emma the rational independent adult could stop her.

And now it was time to go and Emma couldn't think of a single way to get out of it.

Not that she didn't want to go shopping with her mother. It was just that Emma's patience for shopping was practically nonexistent and she had absolutely no desire to try on a dozen fluffy dresses and choose among dozens of flashy accessories like … well, like a _princess_.

Still, she forced a smile for her mother's sake. "Yeah," she said, dumping the remainder of her coffee down the drain and setting the mug in the sink. "Let's go."

And so she and her mom set off. The one thing working in Emma's favor was that there was no place to get real princess-y ball gowns in Storybrooke. There was, however, a consignment shop that specialized in formal dresses. Where the stock had come from in the first place was beyond Emma.

When Emma pulled the Bug up in front of Second Time Around – which even Emma had to admit was a cute name for a consignment shop – she noted with surprise that the store appeared to be empty. The ball was next week, and Emma had figured the place would be packed. "I thought that Evelyn opened the store at nine," she murmured aloud as she turned off the ignition.

A glance down at her dashboard clock proved that it was five minutes past nine. The store _should_ be open.

"She does," Snow assured her. "I made arrangements with her to hold off for an hour or so today."

Emma's breath caught in her throat. She turned in her seat, gaping at her mother. "What? Why?"

Snow smiled gently at her. "Because my princess is trying on dresses for her first ball. Well, second ball, really, but first ball with me."

"And that warrants shutting down a busy consignment shop a week before Storybrooke's first ball?"

Slight panic lit Snow's eyes when she realized that Emma wasn't entirely happy with this turn of events. "In the Enchanted Forest, a princess preparing for her first ball was a big event. I just wanted to make the experience as authentic for you as I could. I'm sorry, I should have run it by you."

"No, it's okay," Emma started to say. Snow gave her a look, a gentle but still knowing look that told her to cut the crap. Nothing was going to get by her mom, was it? She sighed and squirmed uncomfortably in the seat. "It's just … I've never done anything like this before and closing down the store for me? I'm … I'm not used to preferential treatment."

Tears brimmed in Snow's eyes as she reached for Emma's hands. Emma allowed her to take them, blinking back tears of her own. "Sweetheart, the way you grew up … it's not at all what we wanted for you. If we could have had our way, you would have grown up loved and cherished and you would have been our entire world. You would have had special moments like this where you were the center of attention simply because you're you. That said, if this is going to make you uncomfortable, I'll go in there and have Evelyn open the doors like normal."

Emma swallowed hard when Snow squeezed her hands. She squeezed back while weighing her options. She really was uncomfortable with the idea that an entire business had delayed its opening for her but now that she thought about it, she kind of liked the privacy her mom's arrangement would afford them. The fewer people who could watch her trying on dresses, the better. Plus, her mom wanted to spend this time with her, and they deserved to have some privacy.

"No, you don't have to tell her to open the doors," she said quietly after a moment. "Thank you for this."

Snow smiled at her, a motherly smile that let Emma know she understood the concession her daughter was making for the sake of togetherness. "You're welcome. Come on, we have some shopping to do."

Emma smiled back, and the two of them climbed out of the car.

An excited, smiling Evelyn approached Snow and Emma as soon as the bell above the front door to the shop tinkled their arrival, a silver tray bearing mugs of cocoa and some pastries in her hands. Emma glanced at Snow, who winked at her. "I must say, Sheriff Swan," Evelyn said somewhat breathlessly, "when your mother asked me to help make this morning special for you, I leaped at the opportunity. I'd always wanted to take part in dressing a princess for a ball."

Emma knew from the town files that Evelyn had been a seamstress in the Enchanted Forest. She'd been a relatively wealthy one, too, creating garments for the women in her village and selling the rest in the markets. Though her work was indeed exquisite, she hadn't quite garnered royal attention.

In an odd way, Emma was also helping Evelyn realize a lifelong dream. Though the kindly older woman wasn't crafting her a ball gown from scratch, she was indeed helping to outfit a princess for a ball. The excitement dancing in the woman's brown eyes made Emma smile despite her nervousness. "Glad to be of service," she joked.

Much to Emma's relief, both Evelyn and Snow laughed. After taking a moment to sip cocoa and nibble on the pastries – Evelyn had made sure the spread included a bear claw – the three women headed into the back room to begin.

Emma glanced around the large room. Mirrors ran floor to ceiling and there were small risers lining the walls, most probably staging areas for the people trying on the dresses. Evelyn had also had the foresight to bring a few dresses into the room just to get them started, each different colors and styles. "With your fair coloring, I figured that bolder colors would work better for you," she said as Emma stared at the gowns she'd chosen. "If you don't like them, by all means, we can go back out front and poke around a bit."

To be perfectly honest, Emma found it all a little overwhelming. She'd never had someone give thought to what colors would look good on her and take the time to pick out garments in varying styles to help her decide what she wanted.

It was overwhelming but in it own way, it was also very touching. "I do like them," she said when she found her voice. "We can start with these."

Snow and Evelyn smiled at her but kept quiet, allowing her the time to ponder. The dresses Evelyn had chosen were all different. There was a red one eerily similar to the one she'd worn to King Midas' ball, just not quite as full in the skirt or cinched in at the waist. There was a navy blue floor-length sheath with rhinestone accents down the length and pearl beading on the bodice sitting next to a peasant-sleeve hunter green number with an empire waist and a skirt that would hit about mid-calf.

But it was the strapless royal purple satin ball gown with just a hint of beading in the same color embellishing the waist that caught her eye.

She took a couple steps toward it, catching both her mother's and Evelyn's excited expressions in the mirror. The dress was floor-length with a pleated skirt that Emma bet would swish as she walked. The bodice was cinched but not corseted, much to her relief.

"What do you think, Emma?" Snow gently asked from behind her.

_I think Killian is going to freaking lose it when he sees me in this_, Emma thought somewhat wickedly. What she said out loud, however, was, "I think I want to try this one on."

Evelyn grinned, plucked the hanger from the display rack, and handed the dress to Emma. "Now, don't worry if it doesn't fit exactly right," she said as she ushered her towards a private dressing room. "I can tailor it if I have to. Just try it on and see if you like the color, style, et cetera."

And with that she was gone, pulling the door closed behind her. Emma was left alone in the room with the dress, her head spinning. It couldn't really be this easy, could it? Wasn't this process supposed to take like a million years? She'd certainly been expecting a very long and frustrating morning.

As she got ready to try the dress on, she found to her complete surprise that her heart was kind of fluttering in nervousness. She wanted so badly to like this sucker. Hopefully she wouldn't be disappointed.

When she finally managed to get the thing on and zipped up, she closed her eyes and turned to face the dressing room mirror. After taking a deep breath and holding it for a moment, she opened her eyes.

Emma blinked, hardly believing she was looking at her own reflection. _Just stick a tiara on me and I'll really look like a princess_, she thought.

To her utter shock and immense relief, she loved it. The deep purple did indeed look lovely on her. The style and beading provided just enough fanciness without being flashy and overly princess-y. The dress needed to be taken in a little at the waist and hemmed a touch to fit properly but holy freaking shit, she _loved_ it.

Her heart pounding, she stepped out of the dressing room to face the judges.

She needn't have worried. Evelyn's brown eyes were sparkling with excitement and tenderness. Snow's jaw actually dropped open in astonishment.

And then happy tears leaped into Snow's eyes. She stepped forward, took her daughter's hands in her own, and looked her in the eye. Just as Emma was preparing herself for an onslaught of mushiness, Snow seemingly caught herself. She blinked back the tears and smirked at her princess. "Your father is going to lose it when he sees you in this."

Emma grinned.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** What better time to post this ridiculous fluff-fest than a few days before the episode that I'm sure is going to kill us Charming Family fans? Make sure your toothbrush is handy, ladies and gents, here be sugar. I'm not even sorry. ;)

* * *

"Emma Swan, in the name of all that is good in the universe, will you please quit fidgeting?" Snow asked, exasperated beyond the point of masking it.

"Ow, you're pulling!" Emma grumbled in return, whipping her hand to the back of her head.

Snow roughly pushed Emma's hand out of the way, causing Emma to cry out in surprise. "Emma! You just came within inches of grabbing a hot curling iron!" Snow cried, her panic evident in her tone. She let out a breath and when she spoke up again, she sounded a lot calmer. "And I wouldn't be pulling if you would just sit still."

Emma let out an exasperated huff of her own, wondering why the hell she'd agreed to let her mother do her hair for the ball in the first place.

Well, okay, she did know why she'd agreed to let her mother do her hair for the ball. Emma had assumed she would be doing her own hair but Snow had been vaguely horrified at the thought. It wasn't, as Emma had thought at first blush, that she didn't trust Emma to style her hair properly. It was just that a princess doing her own hair before a ball was apparently not a thing that happened.

Emma had been just as vaguely horrified at the thought of sitting for a stylist, so David had suggested Snow do her hair instead as a compromise. Snow had clearly loved the idea of being able to reclaim some of the mother/daughter moments they should have had while Emma was growing up. A little lump had welled in Emma's throat at the thought of finally having a mom to do her hair, so she'd agreed.

What she hadn't taken into account, however, was the sheer craziness of princess hair. Whatever the hell her mom was doing was clearly nowhere near as simple as running a brush through her locks and doing a quick half-ponytail. Her mom's chosen style involved the curling iron and copious amounts of both hair spray and bobby pins. Oh, and sitting still for long periods of time while Snow tried to get whatever the hell she was doing just right.

At least Snow had let her do her own makeup.

Emma glanced over at the clock on her mom's nightstand. It was two hours to showtime, which was still plenty of time. Snow couldn't keep her sitting in her bedroom for two more hours. Hell, it felt like she had been sitting in this chair for two hours already. (It was more like forty-five minutes but Emma had no real patience to speak of.)

She slouched in the chair, only realizing she did so when she heard an exasperated, "Emma!"

Oops. "Sorry."

"Once again, I would very much like to not accidentally burn you with the curling iron," Snow sternly informed her. Emma gulped; Snow had totally just broken out the mom voice. "Would you please sit still?"

"Can I at least see what the hell you've been doing for the last forty-five minutes?" Okay, so she was being snippy but holy crap, it had been _forty-five minutes_ and she had a sneaking suspicion Snow was nowhere near done.

"If I hand you a mirror, would that make you sit still?"

"It'd be a start."

Snow heaved a sigh, released the lock of hair that she had wrapped around the barrel of the curling iron, and crossed the room to her dresser. She withdrew a hand mirror from the top drawer and handed it to her daughter. Emma smiled a thank you and, as her mom reclaimed her place behind the chair, tried to angle the mirror so she could at least somewhat see behind her.

As of this very moment, her hair looked like a complete mess. The remnants of an apparently abandoned French braid were visible at the top of her head and the curls she could see were uneven. "What are you _doing_?"

"I know it looks a little disjointed right now but I promise it will come together nicely. That is, it will come together nicely if you _sit still_."

Then Snow plucked the mirror from her hand and set it on the bed, leaving a chagrined Emma with nothing to do but stare at the wall.

Emma could have kicked herself. Here this was supposed to be a nice moment between mother and daughter and she was ruining it. She hadn't meant to ruin it but she was just so unused to … all of this. "I'm sorry," she said softly after a moment. "It's just … I've never had anyone do my hair before."

Snow's breath caught in her throat. "Ever?" she asked.

"Not that I can remember," Emma replied, shrugging. She was sure someone had done her hair when she was really little but as far back as she could recall, doing her hair had been her own responsibility.

For a moment, both of them were silent. Emma felt Snow lightly wrapping another lock of hair around the barrel of the curling iron. Then she spoke, and Emma was surprised to hear emotion choking her voice. "Well, we'll just have to remedy that, won't we?"

"Yeah," Emma said softly around the lump in her own throat, "I guess we will."

And finally, Emma sat still. She let Snow do whatever the hell she was doing and just reveled in the togetherness with her mom. Hell, she even began to enjoy the fact that someone else was doing her hair, closing her eyes and just letting herself relax.

Twenty minutes later, Snow set the curling iron down. "All right, I want you to take a look." She gave the hand mirror back to Emma and then held out her hand to help her daughter out of the chair. Emma grasped her mother's hand, stood, and tentatively stepped up to the full-length mirror.

As soon as Emma caught sight of her reflection, she gasped. Her mom had given her flowing princess curls with thin tendrils framing her face. And when she lifted the hand mirror to check out the back of her head, she was able to see that Snow had done a loose French braid a quarter of the way down her head, which she then tied off as if it were a half-ponytail so that the remaining hair disappeared into the curls.

"What do you think?" Snow asked somewhat hesitantly.

"I love it," Emma answered, her tone breathless. It was the absolute truth. The hairstyle her mom had chosen was a miraculously perfect combination of ease and elegance, something that wasn't entirely outside of Emma's comfort zone while still looking princess-adjacent.

Snow let a soft breath of relief and now that her moment of panic was out of the way, she was able to fully take in the sight of her baby girl, dressed in her purple ball gown and her curls cascading around her shoulders. She couldn't have looked any more like a princess than she did in this moment, and Snow had never been more proud. "You're absolutely gorgeous, my princess," she whispered around the lump in her throat, cupping Emma's cheek in her palm.

Emma swallowed hard, blinking back tears of her own. She'd never _felt_ like a princess more than she did in this moment, and she was surprised to find that it was kind of awesome. Still, she needed a joke, if only because crying right now would completely screw up her makeup. "You're not going to make me wear a tiara, are you?"

The joke worked. Snow chuckled, sniffling back the rest of her tears. "No, but a princess does need some jewels in her hair." She stepped over to the dresser and retrieved a small black jewelry box. She handed it to Emma, who accepted it with a bewildered frown.

Resisting the urge to shake it, Emma removed the top from the box. Inside on a bed of cotton lay two pairs of jewel-encrusted barrettes. Emma gasped and looked up at her mother with a combination of surprise and confusion. "These were mine and my mother's," Snow said as she removed one pair of barrettes from the box. "Belle found them in Mr. Gold's shop, catalogued as belonging to me, so she gave them back to me. My mother gave them to me for my first ball and she wore the other pair so we would match. I just thought ..."

"I love them," Emma said, smiling softly at her mother and tears once again welling in her eyes.

Snow smiled as well and, blinking back her own tears, clipped the barrettes strategically in her daughter's hair. Then she clipped the remaining pair in her own hair, fully passing down the mother/daughter tradition. "All right," she said, clearing her throat and swallowing the last of her emotion, "if you're ready, I'm going to get your father."

"I'm ready," Emma said, though she wasn't sure that was entirely true. She hadn't anticipated getting ready for the ball being so emotional.

Snow smiled at her, her own baby blue chiffon dress swishing as she ducked through the curtain into the apartment proper. A few of Evelyn's customizations and alterations had turned what was once a simple floor-length bridesmaid's dress into a proper ball gown. She'd done a beautiful job transforming the gown with beading on the bodice and along the bottom of the skirt and added chiffon to make the skirt fuller and more flowing.

Her parents' soft voices announced their pending arrival. Emma held a breath as Snow ducked back into the room with David on her heels. He was dressed in a sleek black suit that Emma hadn't even been aware he owned, and the second he spotted his daughter, he drew to a stop, his eyes wide and his breath catching in his throat.

Very slowly, he stepped forward and, just like Snow had done when she'd tried on the dress, took her hands in his. "You are the most beautiful princess in all the realms," he whispered, pride swimming in his eyes.

Emma felt pesky tears welling in her eyes again. "You're just saying that because you're my dad," she joked but to her horror, her joke backfired on her. The realization that she actually had a _dad _to tell her she was the most beautiful princess in all the realms forced those tears to spill over.

Her dad swooped in for the rescue, letting go of her hands to dry her cheeks with the sides of his thumbs. "I'm a dad whose daughter is the most beautiful princess in all the realms," he teasingly corrected, a sardonic smirk tugging at his lips.

Emma chuckled, sniffling back the rest of her tears. David smiled and stepped back to give his daughter a little space. "You're going to knock them dead, kiddo."

"You think so?" Emma nervously asked, blinking in confusion even as the words were coming out of her mouth. Where was the nervousness coming from?

Luckily, her dad lived up to his nickname. He just smiled and said, "I know so. Now, come on. I know a twelve-year-old boy and a couple-hundred-year-old pirate who are dying to see you."

She smiled back and linked her arm with his. "Lead the way, your majesty."

Snow sidled up to her other side, so her parents walked her out into the living room where Henry and Killian were waiting. She spotted them before they saw her, Henry dressed in the suit he wore when he was working at Gold's shop and Killian dressed in suit pants and a white button-down with his black leather jacket in place of the suit jacket.

In a word, he looked _hot_.

Henry caught sight her first, his eyes widening as he pushed himself up from the sofa. Killian followed his gaze and stood as well, a smile tugging at his lips. Admiration shone brightly in her son's eyes but in Killian's were love and lust and passion and pride and desire, all rolled into one.

"I take it you like it?" she said after a beat of silence.

Henry found his voice first. "You look _amazing_, Mom."

Killian remained dumbstruck. Then he strode forward and extended his hand to her. She unlinked arms with her parents to take his hand. "I am honored to escort the most stunning princess in any realm to tonight's festivities."

Though his eloquence sort of made her knees buckle, Emma managed to quirk an eyebrow at him. "I guess that means you like it."

"Of course I do, love," he nodded before leaning in to kiss her cheek.

That _definitely_ made her knees buckle. "All right," she said when he pulled away, clearing her throat, "let's go to a ball."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** Some Snowing and some quality Daddy/daughter time ahoy! :)

* * *

The great room at Town Hall was a completely transformed space, and Charming took it all in with a smile. His wife and daughter had worked so very hard to put this together but it soon became obvious that they couldn't do it alone. At Emma's suggestion, Snow had approached the owners of various town business to lend their expertise to the festivities.

Every restaurant in town had provided a dish for the buffet and the town florists, party supply stores, and rental places had provided centerpieces, decorations, and tables and chairs. Snow had even hired a crew to put everything together according to the plan she and Emma had come up with, seeing as her roles as mayor, wife, and mother to both an adult her own age and a newborn left no time for putting it all together herself.

Basically, the ball had been a boon for town business, and it all had come together masterfully. The space was beautiful, the music was blaring, the drinks were flowing, and everyone in sight seemed to be having a marvelous time. And with Granny, who informed them that she didn't do balls, babysitting little Neal, Charming and Snow were both free to enjoy the evening knowing their baby boy was in safe hands.

"This is amazing, Gramma," Henry said as he approached his grandparents. He had a glass of punch in his hand but his slight breathlessness and the flush of his cheeks indicated that he'd just come off the dance floor, where a few kids his own age had taken up residence. "Is this what balls were really like?"

"Mostly," Snow allowed. "The music was more along the lines of a string quartet than a sound system and the dances were more synchronized but this is essentially it."

Henry grinned at her. "This is so cool. Much cooler than a school dance."

Charming and Snow shared a grin over the boy's head. No doubt the piles of food pushed this party up the cool ladder a bit.

It must have suddenly struck Snow that they hadn't seen Emma in a while – she and Killian had disappeared together almost as soon as they were through the door, not that Charming was trying to think about _that_ at all – because she asked Henry, "Have you seen your mom?"

"Last I knew, she and Killian were hanging out by the desserts."

Both Charming and Snow hid a smirk at that. Of course their daughter was hovering around by the desserts; a mountain of chocolate and pastries – and even some chocolate pastries – were on display. Charming slipped his arm around his wife's shoulder, which was apparently Henry's cue to leave lest he inadvertently witness any further public displays of affection. "See ya!" he exclaimed as he darted back in the direction of his friends.

This time they allowed their identical smirks to show, both of them clearly thinking, _Twelve-year-olds_.

Their public display of affection wasn't even embarrassing, including nothing more than Charming giving Snow a quick peck on the cheek and tightening his arm around his shoulders as they surveyed the scene in front of them. "This all came together beautifully," he said, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the beat of the music. "You and Emma did a fantastic job."

"Everyone did a fantastic job," Snow agreed. "We couldn't have done this without everyone contributing."

The fact that she was always willing to give credit where credit was due was just one thing on the long list of things he loved about her. He smiled and pressed another kiss to the side of her head.

And when current song ended and a slow one began, Charming sensed opportunity. The music change had shooed all but the couples off the dance floor. Charming released his grip on his wife's shoulders and stepped in front of her instead. "I beg your pardon, your majesty," he said, bowing slightly, "but may I have this dance?"

A grin spread across her lips as she accepted his outstretched hand. "You may indeed."

Since the DJ played two slow songs in a row, Charming actually ended up having a couple of dances, but that was neither here nor there. When the music changed to a more uptempo song, the revelers reclaimed the dance floor and Snow and Charming headed back to the sidelines. Snow craned her neck as they walked, her eyes darting around the large and crowded space. "Do you see Emma or Hook anywhere?" she asked after a moment.

Charming looked around as well and finally spotted the pirate still standing by the dessert table. "I see Hook," he said, nodding in the pirate's direction.

"But not Emma?"

"No."

A quick glance of shared concern between the two of them was all that was needed. As one, they approached the dessert table where a worried Hook stood staring across the large room at the door. "What's the matter?" Snow asked.

The pirate looked at the two of them, clearly torn. Then he glanced at the door again and sighed. "Emma excused herself to get some air a couple minutes ago," he said, refocusing his attention on them. "Though she swore she was just hot, she seemed upset. I wanted to give her a little bit of time on her own and was just on the point of tracking her down."

"I'll go," Charming said.

Snow smiled at him and Hook nodded. Charming crossed the room, strode across the foyer, and headed outside as swiftly as he could without calling attention to himself.

It had gotten chilly in the time they'd been inside and he stifled a shiver as his eyes searched for his baby girl. He found her in a second, seated on a bench along the front walkway. As he approached, he heard her soft sniffles and his heart sank in his chest. "Emma?" he asked softly.

She jumped, her sniffles ceasing instantly. "Yeah," she said, her voice straining as though she were trying desperately to not sound like she'd been crying. "I'm–"

He took a seat next to her, finally able to see that her eyes were rimmed in red and faint tear stains marred her cheeks. "Hey, kiddo, what's the matter? Is it Hook? Do you need me to deck him?"

That got his baby girl to smile, which had been his intention. "No, it's not Hook. It's fine–"

She stopped short when he reached out to dry her cheeks with his thumbs. "This isn't fine. What happened?"

"Nothing, it just hit me … I should have had this, shouldn't I?"

"Yes, kiddo," he said softly. "This just hit you all of a sudden?"

"No," she admitted. "A young girl about Henry's age bumped into me at the dessert table. We both apologized to each other but when she apologized to me, she called me 'your highness.' It sounded so strange to hear someone I don't know call me that but people would have been calling me 'your highness' my whole life, wouldn't they?"

Charming nodded, barely resisting the urge to gather his baby girl in his arms and hold her until her tears stopped. "They would have, Emma. You would have been their princess, too."

"I guess it was just all so abstract before. Even when Killian and I went to the ball in the past, I was undercover. It felt no different than any other time I'd gone undercover to catch a bail jumper. I was just playing whatever role I needed to in order to get the job done. I was _playing_ a princess then but now ..."

"Now you realize you are one," Charming softly finished for her.

Emma nodded, the brimming tears in her eyes threatening to spill over. "I … I didn't grow up anything like a princess and it's just … oh, I don't even know."

A vise grip tightened around Charming's heart. What should have been for his baby girl was such a stark contrast to what actually was. Her life should have been filled with togetherness and love and light and hope but instead she'd grown up alone with indifference and bleakness and despair. No wonder she was having trouble with it.

"You always were and will always be a princess, Emma," he said, brushing one of her curled tendrils behind her ear. "And yes, you would have had all of this if you'd grown up with us: balls and fancy dresses and jewels in your hair and people calling you 'your highness.' But you want to know something? I don't need to see you dressed up like this to know how very proud I am of the princess you grew up to be."

She blinked at him. "What?" she breathed.

"Emma, this world … this world was cruel to you. I am more sorry than you will ever know for that and the way you grew up is not at all what we wanted for you. But despite all the challenges you faced, you grew up into the wonderful, amazing, spectacular woman sitting in front of me, and you did it all on your own. You raised yourself, kiddo, and you did a damn fine job. I am so proud that you're my daughter, I am so proud of _you_, and I get prouder every time I look at you."

That, apparently, was Emma's breaking point because her tears finally did spill over. Charming shifted closer to her and wrapped her in a tight hug. She hugged him back, squeezing tightly, and he reached his palm up to brace the back of her head, holding her even closer. "You've always been a princess, Emma, a tough, strong princess who travels in a yellow car instead of a carriage and stands up for herself, those she loves, and what she believes in. I'm so sorry that it's taken you so long to find people who treat you as such."

"Thank you," Emma whispered into his ear.

For a long beat, father and daughter remained in the embrace. Then a strong wind blew through the courtyard, making Emma shiver as she pulled away. She sniffled sheepishly and dabbed at her eyes. "Please tell me I don't look like a raccoon," she groaned as she searched her fingers for signs of running mascara and desperately tried to force the conversation back to joking – and therefore comfortable – ground.

"You don't look like a raccoon," Charming assured her, once again drying her tears with his thumbs. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," she said, nodding emphatically. Still, it was a moment before she gathered herself enough to stand. "We should get back. I'm cold, and Mom and Killian are probably freaking the hell out right now."

Charming smiled at her as he stood and draped his suit jacket over her shoulders. "Agreed but can I ask you one favor?"

"Sure," she shrugged.

"Will you allow me at least one dance tonight? This is, after all, your first ball with us."

A touched smile lit Emma's face before she caught herself and smirked instead. And Charming's heart, so broken a moment ago by his daughter's tears, now mended itself and flew right out of his chest when she said, "If you thought you were going to get out of this without dancing with me, you've got another think coming."


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** I just couldn't resist throwing in some oldies mentions. ;) Thank y'all for being the awesome readers that you are! I hope you've enjoyed this story! :)

* * *

If trying on dresses had made Emma feel like a princess, walking back into the very busy great room of Storybrooke Town Hall arm in arm with her father made her feel like a celebrity. She felt like every single eye in the room was on her, and as she and David walked past, people would give them reverent little nods.

It was making her more than a little uncomfortable.

"Is that like a respect for royalty thing?" she whispered to David after the third young girl not much older than Henry practically curtsied in her direction. "Because it's kind of weirding me out."

"Yes," David whispered back, trying not entirely successfully to stifle a chuckle. "I thought it was bizarre at first, too. To be honest, I'm still not really used to it."

Only then did Emma realize that her father had grown up a shepherd and he'd had the royal life thrust upon him just as suddenly as it had been thrust upon her. At one point in his life, this was all new to him, too. She met his gaze, her eyes wide in realization. He sent her an understanding smile. "That being said, if you ever need advice, kiddo, don't be afraid to ask, all right?"

"All right," she agreed, matching his smile.

To help her out with the discomfort of everyone staring, David headed not through the center of the room but around the perimeter as they made their way back to the dessert table. A concerned Snow and an anxious Killian stood at attention when they spotted father and daughter approaching. "Are you all right, sweetheart?" Snow asked when Emma was within earshot. Though Killian didn't voice it out loud, it was clear from his tense posture and the concern swimming in his eyes that he had the exact same question.

"I'm fine," Emma assured them. It was on the tip of her tongue to insist that she'd simply needed to step out for some fresh air, so she had no idea why her next sentence tumbled from her mouth. "I was just a little overwhelmed."

Killian's expression of concern softened into one of gentle understanding. Snow flicked her gaze up to David, comprehension in her eyes. Then she smiled, grateful to her husband for going after their daughter and helping her in a way that only he could. Only he had gone through what Emma was going through now, going from someone whom everyone overlooked to someone to whom everyone paid attention practically overnight. "Is everything okay now?" she asked, refocusing on her baby girl.

"Everything's fine now," Emma answered, which was the truth.

Snow smiled at her and grasped her hands for a moment, squeezing comfortingly. Then, as quickly as she'd taken them, she let them go. Emma smiled back, touched by the motherly comfort.

Then Emma slipped away from her parents, sidling up instead beside her pirate. Now able to see that she was indeed okay, he smirked at her, plucked a chocolate-frosted brownie off a tray on the dessert table, and, bless his heart, handed it to her. And oh _God_, was the chocolate comfort sorely needed. "Thank you," she murmured as she bit into the double chocolate deliciousness.

"It is my great honor to supply you with some much needed confections," Killian teased. Much needed was right; the brownie was just the thing to lift her spirits. He waited until she swallowed her bite of brownie before asking, "Are you sure you're all right, love?"

"Yeah," she said, meeting his gaze. "It's just all still so … new to me."

"Aye," he nodded, and it was clear that he understood perfectly. Something of an open book and all that jazz.

Before either of them could even say another word, the opening notes of "My Girl" echoed through the large space. And of course a smiling David chose that moment to step up to them and hold out his hand to his daughter. "I was planning on getting all prince-like on you and requesting the honor of your accompaniment on the dance floor but in light of our conversation outside, I'll simply ask if I may have this dance."

Emma arched an eyebrow at him, mostly to divert attention from the sheepish flush coloring her cheeks. Killian plucked the half-eaten brownie from her fingers and gave her a gentle nudge towards her father. "Apparently you may," she deadpanned, making both David and Killian grin.

David led his baby girl out onto the dance floor. "You're not going to wow me with some kind of secret classical dance talent like a certain pirate back there, are you?" she asked as he placed one hand on her hip and held her other out to the side.

"No," he assured her, chuckling when Emma let out a breath of relief. Apparently, though, he wasn't done. Grinning teasingly, he added, "This tempo's all wrong for a waltz, anyway."

Emma stared at him as if he had three heads. "You're kidding me, right?"

"Not at all," he answered. "I may have grown up a shepherd but I do have some years of royal training under my belt. Dancing is one of those things you just pick up after a while." Emma supposed that was true. She'd certainly picked up on the waltz well enough when she had no other choice. "All I'm saying is I've tripped the light fantastic a fair few times."

She blinked up at him. "Who the hell says 'trip the light fantastic' anymore?"

He grinned at her. "Gotcha."

Emma rolled her eyes, snickering. God, her dad was … such a _dad_.

As they danced, Emma began to grow more and more uncomfortable. For whatever reason, she felt like all of the eyes in the room were still on them.

"What's the matter, kiddo?" he murmured to her. "You're tensing up."

Emma looked up into his eyes, into her _dad's_ eyes, and the it's-nothing excuse that had been on the tip of her tongue melted away. "I just feel so … exposed."

Which was the truth. When she was at King Midas' ball, she was supposed to blend in and not call attention to herself. Not that she'd done a wonderful job of that towards the end there but the dancing part had gone rather smoothly. But here … she just felt like everyone was watching her because she was the princess.

David glanced around them and was able to see what Emma meant. People were indeed casting brief glances their way, the way one would occasionally glance at a celebrity if one happened to be in the same room with him or her. "You get used to that after a while, too," he assured her, recapturing her attention. "We're technically royalty but even in mundane Storybrooke terms, we're the sheriffs. We're the closest thing Storybrooke has to celebrities."

Emma had to arch her eyebrow at that. Storybrooke was filled with famous fairy tale characters. It was pretty much Disney World in Maine.

"For people who didn't grow up knowing us as characters in stories, I mean," he amended with a smirk. "The point is, don't worry about them. Just focus on the music, all right?"

Emma nodded and focused instead on trying to match her movements to her father's. And then it hit her: she was _finally_ getting the chance to dance with her dad. Somewhere inside her, her second-grade self was ecstatic.

She'd never forgotten it; the elementary school she attended at the time had sponsored a father/daughter dance on a Friday evening close to the end of the school year for Father's Day. Having no father – or even any male figures in her life because the group home she was living in at the time was run by a single woman – she'd had to skip the dance. Three particularly cruel kids in her class hadn't let her forget it, either, and had tormented her the entire week leading up to it.

Her features must have darkened because David asked, "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," Emma said, shaking off the memory and smiling up at her dad. "I'm just glad I'm finally getting to do this."

A touched smile tugged at David's lips. "Me too, kiddo," he murmured and, unable to resist the urge, pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Me too."

The rest of the song passed in silence, both of them basking in the much delayed activity of enjoying their first real dance together as father and daughter. It may have come a couple decades later than it should have but as far as Emma was concerned, it was better decades later than never at all.

When the song ended, David stepped back, held her hands in his, and gave her a reverent nod. "Thank you for this dance, princess."

Emma quirked an eyebrow at him and held his gaze a long moment before snickering. "You're _such_ a dork."

"Of course," he said, his pride in his so-called dorkiness readily apparent. "Aren't dads supposed to say embarrassing things like that?"

Yeah, she supposed they did. Emma rolled her eyes but she was smiling.

They stepped off the dance floor and headed back to their respective partners. As soon as Emma approached Killian, she snatched her half-eaten brownie from his hand. "Thank you for holding this," she said as she bit into it.

"Of course, love," he chuckled.

The song currently playing was a fast one, so Emma was not at all surprised to see a ridiculously energetic Henry run up to his grandparents, take their hands, and drag them back out onto the dance floor. "How many desserts has he eaten?" she asked, choking back a snicker.

"A fair few, I'm willing to wager."

"Yeah, me too. He'll sleep good tonight, that's for sure." Emma finished her brownie, wiped her fingers on a cocktail napkin, and tossed the napkin in the wastebasket beside Killian.

Killian turned to her, eyebrows already waggling. "And what are we going to do so you'll sleep good tonight, lass?"

Emma grinned. "This." Though it was clearly not at all what he had in mind, she grabbed his hand and dragged him out on the dance floor. The DJ had clearly begun playing some sort of oldies medley because the opening notes of the Beatles' "Twist and Shout" played over the fading tones of Chubby Checker's "The Twist."

Killian stood stock still, completely unsure of what to do. Emma smirked at him. "They didn't teach you the twist in waltz school?"

He scratched at his ear. "I'm afraid not, love."

"Well, when it comes to the dances in this world, the twist is about the easiest one you can do." She kicked off her shoes, much to Killian's amusement, and took both his hand and hook in her hands. "Watch my feet and just do what I do."

For a pirate, he was certainly a quick study. And with the black leather jacket, well … let's just say he wouldn't have looked out of place at a sock hop.

They danced through both "Twist and Shout" and "Dancing in the Street," but just as Emma was about to suggest taking a break, the tempo shifted with Frankie Valli's "Can't Take My Eyes Off You." Finally hearing something that was a little more his speed, Killian held his hand out to Emma. "Your highness, would you do me the great honor of dancing with me?"

And maybe it was the adrenaline from the previous dances still coursing through her veins or maybe it was the not entirely serious lilt of his voice but Emma didn't even tease him for his choice of words. She just grinned and said, "You better believe it, pirate."

He held her close and the two of them swayed in time with the music, getting lost in a sea of words and each other. "Are you having a good time tonight, love?" he asked after a long moment of silence.

"Yeah," Emma assured him. "It's been … a little overwhelming but I am having fun."

Killian smiled, his blue eyes shining. "I'm glad. So am I safe to assume that aside from the overwhelming parts, your second ball is a success?"

"Balls are still uncomfortable, fancy things ..." Emma allowed before smiling up at him. "But as balls go, this one is pretty okay."

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "'Pretty okay?' A glowing review from Emma Swan."

"Okay, okay," Emma relented, heaving a mock put-upon sigh. "This ball is awesome. But don't tell anyone I said so; I have a reputation to uphold."

Killian chuckled and leaned in for a kiss. Already somewhat giddy from being so close with him, Emma let the kiss consume her completely, only coming back to reality when they broke apart for air. "Your secret is safe with me, love."

Emma smiled. If she got to have quality time with her mom and dance with her dad and receive kisses like that from her pirate, maybe balls weren't so bad at all.


End file.
